


Inedible Spoons

by kyuubi_wench



Series: My Merlin Fics [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Celtic love spoons, No Smut, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyuubi_wench/pseuds/kyuubi_wench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>someone on tumblr prompted something (full prompt + link inside) about Celtic Love spoons. </p><p>in other words: Arthur makes a symbol of his affection for Merlin. He then takes entirely too long before he acts on it. (not sad)</p><p> </p><p>(title tweaked bc grammar)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inedible Spoons

**Author's Note:**

> http://the-song-of-patroclus.tumblr.com/post/120459157746/alright-but-here-in-wales-we-believe-merlin-was
> 
> Alright, but, here in Wales, we believe Merlin was Welsh, and in Wales there’s an ancient tradition where people would carve love spoons to give to the one they love to prove they could provide for them and each symbol carved into it has a special meaning. (A horseshoe for luck, knot work for eternal love, hearts for love, twisted stem to symbolise two becoming as one, a wheel supporting a loved one, a lock/key for security etc, etc.) Historically, they were crafted by hand, but can you imagine Arthur knowing Merlin was this adorable lil Welsh cake, and after a lil bit of research, he goes out and hand carves Merlin a love spoon, and it’s not only a symbol of his affection, but also of respect for Merlin’s heritage and culture. And of course, Arthur is a prince. He’d have probably cut himself up doing it, and the final result would probably be rough and a little lumpy or misshapen, but Merlin would cry because it’s genuine and it’s hard work, and Arthur tried.
> 
>  
> 
> There's the prompt. Thankyou~
> 
> PS! Special thanks to my bestie Blackwidina for holding my hand and kicking my butt to finish this. (and her high praise!)

He heard of it in passing, a gesture so simple. It took a little bit of asking around, trying hard to be merely curious, and when someone grinned at him and asked who the lovely girl was, Arthur just smiled and shook his head. 

It wasn't that fucking simple, it turned out. No matter his skill with a sword and a shield and even daggers, fighting did not translate to carving. It just didn't. And he endeavored to work it in his spare time, alone, which means he often did it in firelight in the evenings, when he could squeeze it in at all. It also offered a way to get rid of the truly terrible first attempts. 

He hadn't even known wood could shatter like that under the pressure of a small knife. 

Of course, he couldn't completely hide his new hobby. He reported in to Gaius one morning for something to wrap over the thumb he's managed to gouge that morning, trying to tuck the project away. He's not overly impressed with himself. He's less so when Gaius turned his hand over and saw the numerous other, smaller nicks decorating his fingers. He listens to the small grumbling as Gaius smears one of his various concoctions onto the smaller nicks and wraps his thumb. 

Of course, if Gaius knows, Merlin learns of it shortly after. That afternoon Merlin catches up with him in the training yard and scolds him. “If you wanted to lose your fingers, Arthur, there are much more efficient ways.” 

“It's none of your business,” Arthur grumbles. 

“And a prince who is so foolish and loses his fingers through stupidity cannot use a sword. And then what will people think?” 

“They'll think nothing,” Arthur bites off, but his body language is sulking. Merlin merely gives him a look that deserves and glances over the unbandaged parts of his fingers. 

“Don't mutilate yourself,” Merlin says with all the exasperation he can spare. It's rather a lot. 

 

If he thought the rings were torture, the dragon cresting the top of the whole trial of carving is an absolute nightmare. He spends hours, all told, trying to get it looking right, and very nearly throws the whole thing in the fire. It's pathetic, he knows, an unskilled attempt at carving and woodwork, and he cannot get the inside of the scoop part to lay smooth. It's knotted and warped, rings and twists, and the weaving he's tried to work into it aren't particularly pretty. It's deeply engraved instead of properly carved, the celtic weave painstakingly worn into the wood. 

All told, it's not perfect. It feels a little wobbly in his hands, and it's clearly not the work of a master craftsman. It definitely won't be useable as an eating utensil, but it's really not supposed to be, either. 

He tries on several occasions, thinking to offer it, but never follows through. It's a fairly personal gesture, he knows, even if the spoon isn't perfect. 

He winds up holding onto it for _months_ , tucked away. Occasionally pulls it out, looks at it, strokes his fingers over the rougher edged. Stows it away again. 

 

Months drag on, long, longer. Uther dies and Arthur's world shortens, becomes a tight circle of emotions and ruling and Merlin's always present support. He's not sure how he makes it through that point. And then there's a entourage from one of the neighboring countries, one in a long list of groups trying to make nice with the newly established king. Arthur doesn't mean to listen in, but he catches up with the youngest of the group, barely into his manhood, talking with Merlin. It's low, pleading whispers, but Arthur catches the conversation well enough. 

They want Merlin to leave Camelot, to come study magic in a country more positive about magic users. Arthur manages not to interrupt them, leaving before he can hear Merlin's answer. He can't bear the thought of Merlin leaving. 

Two nights later he manages to draw Merlin aside. “I wanted to thank you for all you've done,” he starts, and Merlin just shakes his head. 

“I wouldn't have left you to deal with it all alone.” 

“I know. And I cannot put into words just how grateful I am.” He reaches out and snags Merlin's hand. “Don't...” His voice trails off. 

“Arthur?” Merlin looks at him, skin between his eyebrows wrinkling up. 

“I'll lift the ban on magic, Merlin. And the order for execution. You won't have to hide anymore.” Merlin's hand jerks in his but Arthur refuses to let go. “Just don't leave.” 

“Did someone hit you really hard after dinner, Arthur?” The smile is but a shade of his usual one, and Merlin _still_ cannot lie very well. Not to Arthur. 

“No.” He crowds slightly closer. Merlin looks at him, and there's a touch of fear in the wider corners of his eyes. “I overheard the kid talking to you, before midday meal. I don't... Stay here.” Arthur lets go of Merlin's hand and takes the two long steps to one of the sets of drawers, digs in one for a moment. Merlin is still standing there when he turns, but he looks like he's about to bolt. Arthur cradles the cloth- wrapped bundle in his hands. “I could never figure out how to do this.” 

“Arthur,” Merlin starts, and Arthur fancies he can hear the rumble of magic in that tone. Under the edge of fear. “How long...?” 

“You have saved my life how many times, that you think I would not figure it out at some point? Come, Merlin. I have been stupid and foolish over the years, but not that far gone.” He holds out the bundle. “Before this, at any rate.” 

Merlin picks it up, carefully unfolds the layers. He stares at the wooden spoon, once uncovered, long enough that Arthur feels something of his world shatter a little. “You don't... I don't...” The words refuse to form right. 

Merlin runs a finger down the curves and lumps on the spoon, barely touching the wood. He looks back up, eyes narrow. “Do you _understand_ , Arthur, what this sort of token means?” 

“Yeah.” Arthur shoves his hands against his belt, nervous and failing to not act like it. “And if you don't want... I mean, I won't make you stay... But I really don't want you to go.” 

Merlin's eyes flash, and Arthur finds himself pinned on the far wall, Merlin striding up to him with a confidence he never wears around the castle. “And now, Arthur? Are you sure?” 

Arthur squirms and realizes Merlin has him completely pinned. Oh. Well. That's new, but certainly not bad. Not at the moment. “Stay. Please, Merlin.” 

Merlin stares at him a minute longer before gently putting the bundle on Arthur's desk. “The laws-”

“The laws will change,” Arthur answers, almost desperately. 

“And you...”

“Will understand if the years of my being a Noble Prick has left you without care for me.” Arthur pauses. “Well. _That_ sort of care.” 

“Silence, Royal Prat.” 

Arthur nearly bites his tongue, but Merlin is smiling in that small way he gets when things are actually _okay._ He holds really still when Merlin approaches.

“I'll stay,” Merlin finally says once he's close enough to touch. Literally. Arthur could lean forward right now and touch Merlin's forehead with his own. _Close_. “I'll stay. For you. For Camelot.” 

“For me,” Arthur breathes, and Merlin smiles, this time wider. 

“Yes, you idiot. Now get over here and tell me everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to take it from here, please feel free. All I ask is you drop me a link? Pleeeease.


End file.
